


Biosynthesis: Gambit

by LittleRedTea



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BioShock Fusion, Angst and Romance, Biopunk, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedTea/pseuds/LittleRedTea
Summary: Biosynthesis - a process in which substances are converted into different, more complex substancesGambit - an action in which a risk is taken and/or a sacrifice is made in order to gain an advantage‘They were no longer human. What they had been turned into, they were no less than monsters. And yet…he wouldn’t have it any other way, for it was the only way they would be together.’ How far would you be willing to go for the one you love?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Yamcha
Comments: 5





	Biosynthesis: Gambit

His eyes never left her slumbering form. Her limbs were strewn about the mattress, her bare form covered by a dark red sheet. She looked so peaceful, her chest rising and falling with every soft breath she took.

She would be waking up soon. It was like clockwork, it always was. He didn’t even need to look at the clock to know what time it was. He had counted the seconds; he didn’t need to sleep, after all, it was one of the only things he could do to pass them time.

Her skin was a sickly shade of pale, her blue hair reaching to her midback. There was an unnatural glow to her body, almost bioluminescent in a way.

She wasn’t human. Neither was he. The realization used to send chills down his spine, but not anymore. Maybe when they had first been turned into these creatures, yeah. Now, they didn’t think twice about it.

Ten years really had a way of desensitizing you to things like this.

As if on cue, a soft moan escaped her lips and she stirred slightly, and moments later, her eyes fluttered open, the amber glow seeming to pierce everything they crossed. She blinked a few times, then glanced up. Her gaze locked onto him, and a grin reminiscent of a Cheshire cat appeared on her face, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, her chipper voice distorted. It had been surprising and honestly creepy when she first spoke with it, but now he didn’t even bat an eye. She sat up in the bed, the sheet pooling at her waist as she stretched her stiff limbs. She smoothed down her purple nightgown as she spoke up again, “Shall we go out today?”

He didn’t give a verbal response, merely slowly nodding once. Gleeful laughter redolent of bells ringing echoed throughout the room. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, practically skipping to their bathroom in her gaiety. The door automatically slid open upon sensing her approaching, closing itself once she was inside.

Several more minutes passed, each second ticking away as he waited patiently, before the door slid open again and she emerged from the bathroom. Her blue hair had been smoothed down, complete with a red headband resting atop her head, and her outfit consisted off a cropped, off-shoulder white top that exposed her midriff and had loose, flowing sleeves that ended at her elbows. Her shoulders would’ve been bare had it not been for the red bra straps resting on them. A flowing, cerulean-blue skirt that ended at her knees accompanied this, and the whole thing was topped off with her brown strappy sandals.

“Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation?” She asked teasingly, one of her amber eyes winking at him. “Let’s go out!” With that she turned, once again practically skipping as she headed towards the main door, grabbing her bag by the door and slinging it over her shoulder on the way out. He followed her, each slow and heavy, but thankfully quick enough to keep up with her.

**OoOoOoO**

_A city at the bottom of the ocean._

_A year ago, Yamcha honestly would’ve laughed at such an idea._

_And yet, here they were._

_Exiting the bathysphere with Bulma right behind him, Yamcha’s onyx eyes widened in awe at the sight before him. The neon lights were almost hypnotic in the enormous, semi-dark room; the walls and ceiling seemed to be made of brass, based on the way they shined from the artificial lights; soft, dark red carpeting with a golden trim provided a thin layer between their feet and the cold, hard floors, which composed of a black and white chessboard-like pattern; the wall behind them was entirely composed of glass, the only thing standing between them and the ocean floor, a bluish hue seeping into the room._

_And sure enough, there was a hologram over the colossal doors, the bright lights proudly displaying the words: **WELCOME TO RAPTURE**_

_Next to him, Bulma was just as mesmerized at everything she was seeing, her curious blue eyes wide._

_This was a new start for them. A new start away from the dying world above._

_After a few minutes, Bulma pulled herself out of her stupor, redirecting her attention to Yamcha, an excited smile ever present on her face. His dark eyes met hers, seeing a mix of emotions practically swimming in those blue pools. He didn’t need to ask to know what was on her mind. Excitement of seeing what this new life entailed for them; nervousness of what exactly waited for them on the other side of those doors._

_They were newlyweds, having said ‘I do’ only a day before. They had known each other since their early teen years, both of them now in their early twenties, and they had witnessed the world slowly kill itself together. Yamcha had seen it first hand when he served in the military—the scars on his face told a story all on their own._

_Rapture was an escape from the world above. It was a way for them to start this new chapter in their lives._

_Eyes still locked, Yamcha nodded once with a small grin, the silent message that he was as ready as she was. Bulma, still smiling, turned and rushed towards the doors, placing her hand on one of them, but quickly stopping and looking over her shoulder. The bluenette beckoned him towards her, and he walked towards her, stopping once he was at her side and placed his palm against the other door, feeling the cold metal beneath his skin._

_At the same time, the two of them pushed the twin doors open, entering the world of Rapture for the first time together._

**OoOoOoO**

“I-It’s on the house,” the young waitress said nervously as she pushed the tray towards him. He wasn’t surprised. It had been this way for years now.

He didn’t give a verbal response, simply nodding once before grabbing the tray and turning, heading back to where she was sitting. She was at one of the booths in the back of the diner; everyone had either fled or moved to a different table as far away as possible once they had entered the diner. Her bag had been placed in the seat next to her; in her hands was a small novel, which she was currently halfway through, glowing eyes so intensely focused on the printed words that she didn’t notice that he was back until he placed the tray of food in front of her.

She immediately brightened up, quickly bookmarking her novel and placing it back in her bag. “Oh, thank you, dear!” She said, her tone sickeningly sweet, and started digging into the strawberry pancakes. She had always had a sweet tooth, ever since she was a child.

He couldn’t sit down across from her; his armor-coated suit was too big, he wouldn’t fit. He was content with just standing in front of the table as she ate.

What did food taste like? He had honestly forgotten. It had been ten years, after all. He no longer needed to sleep or eat like he used to.

Several minutes passed before she finished the last of her pancakes and gulped down the last of the milk, wiping her face with a napkin and looking back up at him, a tender smile upon her face. “Ready to head out?” she asked, reaching for her bag.

She received another nod in response from him, and she immediately stood back up and practically skipped past him and out of the diner. He followed her, the ground shaking beneath him with each step. He accompanied her for a while, the two of them wandering almost aimlessly past the bright light and neon-lined advertisements. People made sure to avoid them, panicked looks clear on their faces. He didn’t mind; they shouldn’t be bothering the two of them, anyways.

As he followed her, a low, quiet groaning noise reached his ears, and he turned his head to see a sight that wasn’t uncommon down here in Rapture.

A little girl with unnaturally pale skin, glowing eyes, hair tied into a ponytail with a ribbon, barefoot, clad in a cute little dress, and carrying a device consisting of a long syringe, a hose nozzle and a baby bottle cap, happily wandering around. And right behind her was a colossal being wearing what looked like a heavily-armored, steampunk-inspired atmospheric diving suit, with an enormous drill attached to his right hand, slowing stomping as he practically shadowed her.

A Big Daddy and a Little Sister.

 _Pathetic,_ he internally grimaced at the sight of them. Even though the two of them were eerily similar to such creatures, they still differentiated themselves. They were the ‘first models’, as some called them, the original ones. The Big Daddies and Little Sisters he saw wandering around Rapture now were nothing more than tame version of the two of them.

She suddenly stopped, causing him to freeze in his tracks behind her. She started sniffing the air, as if something delectable was wafting through the air, and the familiar grin returned to her face. “This way!” She exclaimed joyfully, rushing off with him right behind her.

He knew what was coming. They had done this thousands of times before, and it was always messy.

**OoOoOoO**

_The bar was always active this time of night, so Yamcha wasn’t surprised at the amount of people in the area as he sipped at his whiskey, the ice cubes clinking around as the glass moved. Bulma would be getting off work soon, and the two of them had agreed to meet here._

_Six months. It had been six months since the two of them married and fled to Rapture. Bulma had gotten a good, high-paying job as a scientist, constantly running experiments and creating amazing new inventions every other day. At the same time, Yamcha had landed a job teaching martial arts classes, his old military skills coming in handy. With the money the two of them accumulated (well, mostly Bulma), they were able to live what could only be described as a life of luxury in Olympus Heights; Bulma was no stranger to such a lifestyle, though it had taken Yamcha a while to get used to it, as it was a stark contrast to the humble life he had before meeting Bulma all those years ago._

_The people of Rapture weren’t so bad either, they had quickly learned. A lot of them had come to the underwater city for the same reasons as them, and they had already made a few friends and acquaintances. The beauty of the city only added to the list of pleasantries. The tranquil beauty of the Tea Garden, the entertainment of Fort Frolic, the Point Prometheus research facility where Bulma worked, the historical fascination of the Proving Grounds…It was as if someone had taken everything from the world above and stripped the frustrations and agonies away, leaving behind only the joyous parts. And neither of them would’ve traded it for anything._

_“Hey,” a familiar voice pulled Yamcha out of his stupor. A smile placed itself on his face as he set his glass down and turned to see Bulma pulling herself up on the seat right next to her, a warm grin on her face. She had removed her white lab coat, but her hair was still pulled back into a ponytail, indicating that she had just gotten done with work. Yamcha usually got done an hour before her, and the two of them had gotten into a routine of meeting up at certain locations, usually restaurants or at Fort Frolic, spending what little time was left in the day together before heading back to Olympus Heights._

_“Hey yourself,” he said, still grinning as he pushed the tiramisu cocktail towards her. “Ordered your favorite.”_

_Bulma gave him a thankful smile, grabbing the glass and sipping at the sweet concoction. The two of them stayed there for a while, chatting about the events of today as jazz music blared from the jukebox in the corner._

_A sudden crashing noise startled them out of their conversation, the two of them turning in the direction of the sound to see two men locked in what looked like a rather violent fight, bruises already forming and blood being drawn. And from what Yamcha could see, they were tussling over what looked like a round glass bottle filled with bright red liquid and a cork on the top, and a few large syringes of blue liquids._

_Thankfully, a few other men had already gotten ahold of them, managing to pull them away from each other. While Yamcha could only stare in confusion, silently wondering just what was so great about the bottle and syringes that would make them suddenly turn violent, Bulma frowned at the sight before her. Her scar-faced husband quickly noticed this, turning back to her._

_“Something wrong?” he asked. She turned back to him and sighed heavily._

_“Oh, it’s just…” Bulma paused to look around, as if checking if someone was listening in. She motioned him to draw closer, and when he did, she whispered to him. “You know Dr. Gero, right?” He nodded, remembering the name of the scientist that she sometimes told him about. The man was infuriating and almost twisted, from what she had said, but a damn genius. “Well…He’s been working on these new chemical substances called ADAM, Plasmids and EVE.”_

_Yamcha raised a brow at her words. Most of the scientific stuff was like a foreign language, but he still knew a little bit from listening to his wife all these years, though he still had no idea what any of those were. Sensing his confusion, she softly explained, “ADAM has the ability to rewrite someone’s genetic material and alter their body, their genetic makeup and their abilities, essentially allowing them to become whatever they please with almost no limitations. Plasmids, on the other hand, allow further genetic modification and mutation, essentially giving them ‘super powers’, if you will, and EVE powers and enhances the use of Plasmids.”_

_Yamcha’s eyes had widened at her words, though before he could comment on it, Bulma sighed as she continued. “I was able to get a look at Gero’s experiments with those substances; he had used a few other people as guinea pigs. The substances produce fascinating results, I’ll admit, but…the type of cell formation it creates is comparable to a benign form of cancer. The chemicals destroy native cell tissue and replaces it with unstable version. The test subjects were driven mad, acting like drug addicts and becoming violent, only wanting their next dose off ADAM and EVE._

_“I told Gero not to release these to the public,” she grumbled out, slowly starting to sound furious, anger sparking in her blue eyes. “But it looks like he didn’t listen. It’s like he thinks all of Rapture is his lab and the people here are just his test subjects, and now more people are gonna get hurt as a result.”_

**OoOoOoO**

It had taken a while, the two of them traveling down to Apollo Square, but she finally found what she had been looking for. He wasn’t surprised when he entered the dimly-lit room behind her, it was just another familiar scene. Red liquids were splattered against the walls and brain matter covered the floor, leading to what was obviously the corpse of a Splicer, recently dead from what he could tell.

The grin never left her face as she excitedly walked over to the body and crouched down, beginning to examine it closely. A small whimpering sound reached his ears, and he turned to see three figures in the corner—a man, a woman, and a child. The woman had black hair pulled into a bun and wore a purple cheongsam, a look of fear evident on her face as she cradled the child close to her chest. The child was a little boy, he couldn’t have been any older than four or five and was dressed in traditional clothing, trembling and looking just as fearful as his mother.

And finally, the man was standing in front of the woman and the boy with his back turned to them, clearly protecting the two of them, his wide dark eyes never leaving the beings just several feet in front of him. His black hair sprung into messy spikes, and he was clad in blood-spattered orange outfit. He had been the one who had killed the Splicer on the ground, no doubt.

Another minute or so passed, the room would’ve been silent if it wasn’t for her mirthful humming, then she stood up and faced him with an eager nod. Without hesitation, he lumbered over to the corpse and grabbed it by the shirt, slinging it over his should like a sack of potatoes.

The couple looked to be a mixture of fear and confusion as they watched them. He looked back over at them, wishing he could’ve given them words of words of reassurance, tell them that neither of them were going to hurt them, but alas, his voice wouldn’t allow that. They wouldn’t even be able to hear his words unless they got closer, which they didn’t seem willing to do.

“Come on,” she said, her distorted voice easily startling the couple and their child. “Let’s go back to the lab.” She exited the room with a spring her step, and he took one final glance at the three strangers before following right behind her.

**OoOoOoO**

_New Year’s Eve was always a time of celebration; leaving the previous year behind and looking towards the future as a new year started. In honor of the New Year, a masquerade ball was being held at the high-class Kashmir Restaurant. People from Olympus Heights had gathered for such an event, each of them wearing formal clothing and donning masks on their faces. The entire building had a romantic atmosphere to it as people danced, talked, laughed, ate, and drank the night away on either the red carpeted floors or the balconies above, a bit of smoke filling the room as a few people lit their cigars and pipes, the crystal chandeliers hanging above casting an almost hypnotic lighting over everyone, and sure enough, a small orchestral ensemble played the music some of the people danced to from one of the overhead balconies._

_Most of the men here were dressed in traditional European-style suits. Deciding he wanted something more comfortable, and honestly a little closer to home, Yamcha had opted to wear a more Chinese-style outfit, which consisted of a red changshan jacket with long sleeves that had white cuffs at the ends a, black pins buttoning it from the bottom up to the collar, a golden dragon pattern embroidered on the front of the jacket, black pants, and black shoes. He had donned a black masquerade mask with dark red accents, the accessory covering the top half of his face._

_Bulma had her arm hooked around his as they entered Kashmir Restaurant, a few people giving them welcoming words as they walked by. Similar to the other elegantly-dressed women at the event, Bulma wore an azure-blue dress with a flowing skirt that ended at her knees and short butterfly sleeves, a silk white ribbon tied around her waist, elbow-high white gloves, and silver strappy sandals that added two inches to her height. And just like her husband, she too donned a masquerade mask, except hers was an icy-blue color with cerulean lining and golden accents. Her blue hair was styled in an elegant bun with two strands of hair framing her face and ending at her chin._

_Like the other guests around them, Yamcha and Bulma enjoyed their time at the party—drinking champagne, dancing together to the music of the ensemble, chatting with a few other people as laughter filled the air, and enjoying the food laid out for them as the minutes ticked by, getting closer and closer to midnight with each passing second._

_With just barely a few minutes left until the clock went off, Yamcha and Bulma found themselves on the red-carpeted floor, once again dancing to the orchestra’s music as his arms wrapped around her waist and hers around his back._

_“Yamcha,” Bulma whispered softly, her face close to hers, making him look back up at her. A small smile graced her face. “Tell me: once this whole party is over…how do you feel about having children?”_

_Yamcha felt his face quickly heat up at her question. The answer was almost automatic in his mind. He had wanted a family for the longest time, wanted nothing more than to have a child with the love of his life. And now, the opportunity was practically handing itself to him. He smiled back at her, giving her all the confirmation she needed as she pressed her lips against his in a passionate kiss._

_They would try tonight after the party, and if things went their way, by this time next year, they would have the family they dreamed of—_

_A sudden, loud_ boom _shook the building, startling more than a few of the guests and making the couple pull away from their embrace. Before they could make sense of what was happening, another explosion sounded, this one closer than the last, sending several of the guests into a panic, screams beginning to fill the air._

_Yamcha wrapped both arms around Bulma protectively as the two of them rushed to the nearest exit, which was in the back to the right of the building. He practically kicked the door down as another explosion went off, closer and louder again. Screams still filled the air as the two of them ran, neither daring to even look back._

_Even more explosions filled the air, but they were suddenly accompanied by a high-pitched whistling noise, and were quickly followed by more deafening_ booms _mixed with a crackling noise. Yamcha recognized that noise anywhere: fireworks. Whoever was doing this was using bombs and fireworks to attack them._

_The dim glow of a blue light caught Yamcha’s attention out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head slightly as they ran. Standing on one of the balconies was a man, dressed in a ragged, filthy, bloodstained suit and a white rabbit masquerade mask on his face. In one hand, he held a large syringe filled with blue liquids, injecting it into the veins of his other arm, electricity pulsing around his body._

_Yamcha’s blood turned to ice as a cloud of dark purple smoke surrounded the man and he vanished on the spot. Splicers._

_He had heard the name only a few days before. It was the name that people were starting to give to those who had become addicted to ADAM, essentially turning into vicious animals._

_They had to get out of here_ now!

_But before the two of them could reach the Welcome Center’s exit, the Splicer was suddenly right in front of them, bright flames licking at his body, and delivering a powerful punch to Yamcha’s gut before he had the chance to react._

_All at once, white hot burning pain coursed through the ex-soldier’s body, a strangled gasp escaping his mouth as he the force of the blow sent him flying backwards several feet, landing painfully on his back. He could hear Bulma’s voice yell his name, quickly followed by her screaming and a sickening squelching noise._

_Yamcha struggled to pull himself to his feet; a good portion of his jacket had been burnt away, the tan skin gaining a reddish color from the attack. But before he could fully pull himself up or even look to see what had happened to Bulma, the Splicer was suddenly right in front of him, grabbing him by his neck and lifting him up into the air._

_Panic set in as Yamcha grabbed the arm that held him in place, struggling to breathe as the Splicer practically ripped the black and red mask off his face, as if to get a better look at him. It turned out to be all for naught; the Splicer acted like he hadn’t even noticed Yamcha’s futile attacks, a smirk spreading on his face._

_“Well I’ll be damned!” The Splicer laughed. “Look what we got here, boys! It’s the husband of that bitch scientist!” By now, Yamcha was aware that there was more than one Splicer in the room, if the echoing laughter in the room was any indication. The Splicer’s free hand curled into a fist, alit with flames. “This ought to be fun!”_

_The Splicer slammed his fist into Yamcha’s face, simultaneously releasing his grip on his neck, sending the scar-faced man flying several feet backwards as burning agony spread through his head. He slammed into a nearby wall, only adding to the pain coursing through him as he collapsed to the floor._

_The Splicer repeated his attacks over and over again, disappearing in a dark cloud of smoke and reappearing to deliver powerful, painful attacks of fire all over his body before he had a chance to even fight back. The white-hot agony grew in intensity with every blow. He heard hoarse screaming—his own screaming—but he wasn’t even aware that he was doing it. And finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Splicer delivered one final blow to his face again, flying backwards again and the back of his head slamming against a wall, causing him to blacken out._

_At first, he thought he had died. He honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to death. But it seemed that he had been wrong. Because the next thing he knew, he was being dragged out of the dark, painless slumber he was in, and was immediately hit with horrid, burning agony. He groaned out, his voice hoarse and painful; he was sure that the Splicer had burnt his throat as well. His entire body was a painful shade of red, his skin covered in burns and hot to the touch, sticky blood covering a good portion of his being._

_Sudden realization practically slapped him in the face. Bulma! Where was Bulma?! He rapidly scanned the room, and a moment later, almost wished that he hadn’t._

_Ice covered a portion of the floor; he remembered hearing that ‘freezing’ had been one of the powers that Splicers possessed. Large ice spike littered that area of the room…_

_…and on one of those spikes was the limp body of a young woman, the object impaled through her stomach, crimson blood staining her dress and dripping down onto the ice._

_“Bulma!” Yamcha shouted out, his voice now quieter and hoarse; it almost hurt to speak. He managed to pull himself to his feet after several attempts. His muscles screamed at him to stop, as they pain only worsened every time he moved, but right now, he didn’t care._

_He limped over to the ice spikes and placed both hands on his wife’s body, straining himself once more as he pried her from the spike as carefully as he could, praying to whatever gods could hear him that she was still alive._

_But it seemed that his silent prayers went unanswered. As soon as he got her off and lowered her down to the ground, Yamcha checked her body for a pulse._

_There wasn’t one._

_Her body was cold, empty…lifeless…_

_The truth slammed into him like a train, and he had to turn away as a sickening feeling built up within him. He heaved for a few seconds before the contents of his stomach exited his mouth and splattered onto the ground, vomiting up everything that he had eaten that evening._

_Once there was nothing left to throw up, he coughed roughly, his entire frame painfully shaking as he turned back to Bulma’s body._

_And at that moment, he broke down and sobbed._

_He wasn’t sure how long he had remained there, wailing his heart out as he tears fell onto his wife’s bloodstained dress. He had no idea if several minutes or several hours had passed._

_But before he knew it, the grief was suddenly drowned by a boiling_ rage.

_Despite his body’s protests, Yamcha slowly pulled Bulma into his arms and stood up, holding her bridal style as he limped towards the Welcome Center’s elevator._

_Someone was going to pay for this._

_And he knew just who that someone was._

**OoOoOoO**

The walk back wasn’t so bad. She walked in front of him with a spring her step, humming to herself as he continued to carry the Splicer corpse on his shoulder. Once again, people were smart enough to avoid them.

But it seemed that not everyone came to that same conclusion.

Because the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps reached his ears, and before he could turn to see who it was, a loud yell filled the air and something was suddenly slammed into his back with great force.

He turned around on the spot and was greeted with the sight of a Thuggish Splicer holding a pipe in his hands, flinching as he realized that his attack had not work. Without missing a beat, he dumped the body he had previously been carrying and punched the Splicer in the face as hard as he could. The Splicer was sent barreling into a wall, a sickening _snap_ echoing around them as the Splicer went limp, not moving as he collapsed to the ground.

“Hey! You get away!”

Her shriek made him whip around swiftly to see that two other Splicers—a Spider and a Nitro—had confronted her. The Nitro had a firm grip on her bag, the two of them essentially playing a game of tug-a-war with it. And after a moment, the Spider seemed fed up, as she raised up one of her red-hot hooks and slammed it hard against her head, making her release her grip on the bag and fall to the ground.

And in that moment, he saw _red._

He barreled at the two Splicers. In the end, the job didn’t take very long, the Splicers’ pleas falling on deaf ears. The Spider Splicer met her end as he grabbed ahold of her by her shirt and slammed her to the ground, his heavy, armored foot stomping on her head and red splattering on the ground with a crack.

The Nitro Splicer, meanwhile, had tried to throw an explosive at him, only for him to grab it before it left his hand and shove it down the Nitro’s throat. He chucked the body to the other side of the room, where the Splicer self-destructed, more splashes of red covering the ground as the putrid odor of burning flesh wafted through the air.

Once they were both dead, his anger dissipated. For a several long seconds, silence reigned in the room.

Then laughter came.

It was small giggles at first, only to escalate into full-blown laughing. He turned to look at her, seeing her stand back up and casually wipe away the blood from her temple, her laughter ringing around the room. There was no wound where the Spider Splicer had struck her.

Again, he wasn’t surprised.

The Nitro Splicer had dropped the bag as soon as he tried to use the grenade. She walked over to her bag and picked it up, rifling through it for a minute and smiling as she found what she had been looking for. She pulled it out, revealing it to be a hose nozzle with a long syringe attached to one end and a bottle attached to the other end.

The same item that Little Sisters used to gather ADAM from Splicer bodies.

She walked over to the corpse of the Spider Splicer and crouched down, not hesitating to stab the syringe into the body’s side. Bright, glowing red fluids filled the bottle.

It usually took a few minutes for the bottle to be filled up all the way. He waited patiently as she gathered the genetic material. And once she was done, she stood back up and placed the item in her bag. She turned back to him, still smiling.

She pointed to the decapitated body of the Spider Splicer. “Bring this one, too, please,” she said. He nodded once more, then went back to get the first Splicer corpse back and hauled it over his shoulder again, placing a hand over it to make sure it would stay in place. He lumbered over to the Spider Splicer corpse and picked it up with his other hand, firmly grasping it by the front of the dress.

As if they had never been attacked, she cheerfully continued their trip back, with him once again right behind her.

**OoOoOoO**

_Holding Bulma’s body in one arm, Yamcha slammed his fist harshly against the metal door. The action didn’t help the already damaged skin, causing his hand to start bleeding and leave droplets of red on the door. He didn’t care right now._

_He repeated the action several times until the door finally lifted up. Behind it was an old man with long white hair, a sour look upon his face, irritated that someone had interrupted his work. The irritation, however, disappeared and was replaced by surprise at the sight of a burnt-up young man with the body of a young woman in his arms._

_“You’re Dr. Gero, right?” Yamcha growled out, his hoarse voice making the old man blink at him._

_The sour look returned to his face. “I am,” he replied, raising a brow. “And you are?” No sooner had those words left his mouth than he realized who the woman was. He had met her several times before. Dr. Bulma Brief._

_“This is your fault,” Yamcha said, fury evident in his tone. “You’re the one who created ADAM, Plasmids and EVE. You’re the one who released them to the public and created Splicers. You’re the reason my wife is dead!”_

_Dr. Gero stared at him for a moment. He didn’t know that Bulma was married. Then again, he had never really paid attention to much of what the young woman had said, as it most consisted of her nagging and criticizing his works._

_“And now, you’re gonna make this right!” Yamcha yelled out as much as his voice allowed him. Dr. Gero looked surprised at his words, then narrowed his eyes._

_“What makes you think I’d help you out?” he asked with a snarl. Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and started to walk away, the door lowering itself._

_But he didn’t get far, as Yamcha rushed into the room before the door got too low, punching Gero in the back of his head harshly, sending the aged scientist to the ground. He slowly pulled himself up after a minute, rubbing the back of his head as he turned around, blood dripping from his nose as he glared daggers at the ex-soldier, who still held the body of his lover in his arms._

_“I’m not taking no for an answer!” Yamcha spat, the grief-stricken man was beyond reason at this point. “You caused this, now either you’re gonna fix it or I’ll kill you!”_

_Gero stared back at him. Based on the display of strength from a minute before, he didn’t doubt that the young man could do that. He silently contemplated his options._

_Maybe…_

_He frowned at the thought. He had been planning that experiment out for a while now, but he couldn’t perform it so quickly…_

_Unless…_

_He looked over the young man and the woman in his arms once again. Most of his body was burnt beyond recognition, and the woman was already dead._

_What worse could the experiment do to them?_

_“Well…” Gero said calmly. “There is something I can do.”_

**OoOoOoO**

They had gone back to her lab, where she proceeded to work for hours on end. She had always gotten lost in her work once she started. He sat in the back of room as she experimented with the two bodies, extracting more ADAM from them and injecting other substances to see how the modified tissue would react.

Time moved at its own speed, and he counted every second as it passed them by. Afternoon was starting to dwindle away and creeped into the early evening as she finished her work, storing the bodies in containers and pouring the extracted ADAM into a jug, which she placed in her bag.

“We still have some time left,” she said, turned back to him. “Shall we go to the garden, dear?”

No verbal response, just another heavy nod. She practically squealed in joy as they left the lab. He knew how much she loved the gardens of Rapture.

They made it to the Tea Garden after several minutes. They were in only ones in the room, the two of them enjoying the tranquil atmosphere that came with the flowering trees and gentle streams of the garden together.

He spotted a group of stargazer lilies close by, each flower a pale shade of lavender with white speckles. He made his way over to them, plucking one of the lilies from its spot and holding it in his palm, and walked back over to her, offering the flower to her.

She gasped happily before grabbing the gift from his hand. “It’s so beautiful!” she said. “I love it so much!” She placed the lily in her hair and practically flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him as much as she could for a hug. “Thank you, dear!”

More time passed before they left, heading straight back to their home in Olympus Heights. They were back in their bedroom when she pulled the jug of ADAM out of her bag and set it on the table, placing the stargazer lily right next to it. She opened up the jug and dipped a finger into the ADAM, then pulled it out and held it over the flower. A single, vivid red droplet fell from her finger and splashed onto the flower. The effect was immediate, the flower starting to glow. It wasn’t going to wither away any time soon.

“I’ll be right back, my love,” she practically cooed to him. “Help yourself, I’m gonna go take a bath.”

She headed into the bathroom, and within a minute, he could hear the sound of running water.

He eyed the jug of ADAM. Ten years ago, the glowing red substance would’ve been tempting, but he wouldn’t have taken it.

Now, they couldn’t live without it.

He raised both hands to his helmet and turned it slightly. There was a _click_ , followed by the sound of rushing air, as he removed it from his head.

**OoOoOoO**

_Yamcha watched as Dr. Gero worked, typing at his computer and monitoring the multiple screens around them, doing some last-minute check-ups and tweaking a few things here and there. White bandages were wrapped around the majority of his body. A week had passed since the attack at Kashmir Restaurant, since Bulma’s untimely death, since he came to Gero with his demands. The doctor had worked nonstop, less Yamcha fulfill his promise to end his life if he didn’t do this._

_The ex-soldier redirected his gaze to the two large pods on the other side of the room, one opened and one closed. The closed one held the body of his wife, preserving it and preparing it for the procedure. He didn’t need to ask what the open one was for. He already knew._

_Gero had been planning this experiment for a while now, and it seemed the two of the were his first test subjects._

_Yamcha honestly didn’t care if the procedure killed him. At least he’d be reunited with Bulma in the afterlife._

_“It’s ready.” Finally, Gero said the words he had been waiting all week to hear. Yamcha stood up from his chair, the burning ache in his muscles still present, and practically ripped the bandages from his body, revealing the burns that had barely begun to heal over._

_Once his body was bare, he walked over to the open pod and stepped inside, lying down in it before the door closed, shutting tight. Warm fluids began to fill the pod as the whirring noise of the machines reached his ears. Fatigue grabbed ahold of him and he could feel himself slipping into the welcoming darkness of slumber. The last thing he saw was though the glass window of the pod, Gero observing the monitors with a skeptical look in his eyes, as he blackened out._

**OoOoOoO**

Dr. Gero hadn’t expected the procedure to work. He hadn’t expected either of them to wake up.

But they did.

Gero had been surprised. The procedure was completed within a few days, and was declared a success.

The mad doctor had gone on to further modify the procedure. It had originally been a way for him to create ‘gatherers’ of ADAM, and creatures that would keep them safe. The experiment later led to the creation of the Little Sisters and Big Daddies what wandered almost aimlessly around Rapture today.

They were alive, but it came at the cost of their humanity. Neither of them were the same when they woke up. Their bodies were now biologically immortal, damn near impossible to kill. Her mind was permanently in a state of delusional happiness, only seeing an idealized child-like world instead of the dark, deteriorating state Rapture was in. Her body could easily heal from any physical attacks, and she had a nose for ADAM.

But he didn’t care.

Because all that mattered was that she had woken up, that they were together again.

And they were going to be this way. Forever tethered to each other by the ADAM that ran through their veins.

He turned to look at the mirror they had in their bedroom. The procedure left him permanently disfigured; over half of his body was a painful shade of red, the burns now dark scars on his skin. His veins were now black and much more prominent beneath his skin. Half of his long black hair was gone, having fallen out during the procedure. His voice was now forever hoarse and quiet, having never truly healed from the attack. Had it not been for the dark eyes that stared back at him and the scars on his face, he never would have recognized himself

But he was still alive.

He turned back to the jug of ADAM and picked it up in his hands. He brought the jug to his lips and titled it downwards, gulping down several mouthfuls of the sickeningly sweet liquids, and only stopping once he had emptied half of the jug. Unlike with her, food and slumber had become obsolete for him; ADAM was the only thing he needed now, both of them drinking it on a daily basis. It was like almost water for normal humans, the only thing keeping them alive and together.

He set the jug back on the table, next to the glowing lily again. Several more minutes passed before the bathroom door opened up again and she stepped out, wet hair dripping down her back and her body clad in only a towel.

Her amber eyes rested on him, the same grin from before coming back to her face. She walked up to him and raised a hand to cup his cheek, running the pad of her thumb over the X-shaped scar on his face.

“I love seeing your handsome face,” she said softly, only the sweetest affections present in her voice. She walked over to the bed and sat down on it; her gaze still locked with his.

“Won’t you some and please me, my love?” she asked, her voice turning seductive as she removed the towel from her body and dropped it to the floor, revealing the smooth, pale skin.

She didn’t need to ask him twice. At her request, he removed the rest of his armored suit, revealing the rest of the red, scarred, toned body he normally kept hidden from the rest of the world.

Everyone except her, that is.

He climbed onto the bed with her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and she pressed her lips against his in a passionate kiss.

Some time later, both of them laid in the bed, the two of them panting and the sheets covering their sweat-covered bodies, both of them stark naked and still in each other’s arms.

She looked back up at him, giving him a tired smile. She pecked him on the lips and closed what little distance was between them.

“Good night, Yamcha,” she said, closing her eyes as she drifted off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

And once she was asleep, he gently ran a hand through her blue hair and hoarsely whispered to her, “Good night, Bulma.”


End file.
